


A Killer's Mind

by LadyRhiyana



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, And he's not happy about it, Canon-Typical Violence, De-aged Sesshoumaru, Do not pet cute chibi!Sesshoumaru, Gen, Sesshoumaru is turned into a child, Unless you want to lose your arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22218388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: A killer's mind, trapped in a child's body.[Or; Sesshoumaru is turned into a child. It doesn't make him any warmer or fluffier - only angrier.]
Relationships: InuYasha & Sesshoumaru (InuYasha), Rin & Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted between 2006-2009 on ff.net. 
> 
> This fic is probably more biased than my normal writing. It came about because, in 2006 or so, I saw *so many* cute and cuddly fics where Sesshoumaru was turned into a child and was soft and helpless and vulnerable. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed reading them, but I wanted to write an anti-cuddly fic where, for once, Sesshoumaru did not lose his memories and was just as fierce and dangerous as ever - only *smaller*. So if you see my annoyance at people wanting to pet and cuddle and protect chibi-Sesshoumaru, that's where it comes from.
> 
> It's not my best plot-work. The overarching story is mostly cobbled together to fit in the de-aging trope and random bad guys. There is a huge jump between chapters 8 and 9 because I discontinued the fic at one point, and the amazing manonlechat persuaded me to at least write the ending. But there are a few parts that I enjoy very much, so I'm posting it on AO3.

Sesshoumaru coughed, the blood rising thick and metallic in his throat.

He stumbled, falling heavily to his knees, catching himself on his hands, and behind him, he could hear the low, coarse laughter and obscene comments of the youkai bandits who had attacked him. He snarled, pushed himself back up, and they kicked his hands (his _hands!)_ out from under him, sending him crashing back to the ground. Another brutal kick came, this time straight into his broken ribs; he gasped, an involuntary whuff of air –

“The great and mighty Sesshoumaru of the West,” the bandit leader spoke, his voice rich with derision and scorn. “I thought you would be taller.”

They roared with laughter. Once more, he picked himself up, snarling, his eyes bleeding red and his face distorting with the beginnings of his transformation. _These petty fools dared…!_ But the leader only tangled one hand in his long white hair and lifted, pulling Sesshoumaru off his feet, holding him, dangling a good foot above the ground.

“How old are you now, Sesshoumaru- _sama_? Twelve years old? Thirteen? Oh, don’t show your teeth at me, whelp –” he smashed his fist into Sesshoumaru’s face, grinning delightedly when something crunched and blood ran, bright crimson, “you don’t frighten me. Like this, you’re nothing more than bluff and bravado.”

Deliberately, Sesshoumaru wrapped his hands around the leader’s wrist and dug his claws in, releasing his poison. In this weak, immature body, it was not nearly as potent as before, but it was strong enough to do real damage – the leader roared in pain and aggravation, shaking his arm, trying to dislodge Sesshoumaru’s claws, but he hung on with all the bloody-minded determination he could muster. Finally, a flailing, powerful fist caught him a glancing blow and he went flying, crashing into the rocky ground while the leader clutched his forearm and swore viciously, his eyes feral red and maddened with pain.

For the third time, Sesshoumaru dragged himself back up to his feet, wavering on unsteady legs. He grinned mirthlessly, mocking the leader of these petty, opportunistic scavengers who thought they could take him on, weakened and in a child’s body or not. As he forced himself to stand straight despite his shattered ribs, he saw them regroup around their leader, their eyes suddenly uncertain as they watched him – Sesshoumaru, the Great Lord of the West, who, in the chaos following his father’s death, had taken power not by right of inheritance, but through a massacre that had lasted for a full week.

“He’s just a whelp!” the leader snarled, the last vestiges of his humanity vanishing in his bestial rage. “He has no power. His ribs are broken, he can hardly stand; his strength is nothing but illusion. Kill him!”

“B-but…” the followers hung back, clearly unwilling to trust their leader’s word. Sesshoumaru fixed them with his best murderous glare, knowing that his life depended on their fear and awe. He could not afford to die here. 

He _would not_ die here.

“Fools! I’ll do it myself, then!” The leader, his clawed, partially melted arm already turning black, drew his sword and advanced heavily on Sesshoumaru. “Come on!” he shouted. “We’ll all rush him together!” Caught up in the mad, reckless bravado of their leader’s charge, the reluctant followers drew their swords too.

Sesshoumaru drew in a deep, deep breath, flexing his clawed hands, preparing himself for the violence and agony to come.

_Rin._

****

Later that day, Inuyasha lifted his head and sniffed at the air, his eyes narrowed in speculation.

“What is it?” Miroku asked, gripping his staff tighter. “What do you smell?”

“Blood,” Shippou chipped in from his seat on Kagome’s shoulder. “Lots of blood.” The young kit shivered, drawing in on himself; automatically, Kagome lifted a hand and petted him, soothing him.

“Sesshoumaru’s blood,” Inuyasha growled. “Stronger than I’ve ever…” He broke into a run, heading for the trees.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome shouted after him, but he was too focused to hear her. Scowling, she got on her bike and pedalled furiously after him, Sango and Miroku following behind her.

Inuyasha’s whole attention was focused on the blood scent. Why was Sesshoumaru bleeding so heavily, and what the hell was he doing so far from his normal territory? K’so. Things were bad enough already, without throwing Sesshoumaru’s problems into the mix – and anything that could cause Sesshoumaru serious trouble was very, very bad.

Following his nose, he came up on a small, secluded clearing, saturated with the scent of blood. As he stepped out of the trees he tensed, half-expecting to see his half-brother’s disdainful glare, but instead he saw a white, glimmering form in the shadows, stained crimson with blood and gore, a solid red hand convulsively gripping Tenseiga’s hilt –

“Fuck!” Inuyasha hissed.

The ghostly white form jerked, the hand on Tenseiga’s hilt clenched, and a primal shiver ran down Inuyasha’s back as he watched Sesshoumaru struggle to rise to his feet. Never, in all his life, had he ever seen Sesshoumaru so weak –

And then there was a soft, unmistakable gasp of pain, and Inuyasha’s all-powerful, indestructible brother wavered, swayed, and then crumbled into a dead faint.

***

“Merciful Buddha!” Miroku muttered, for the fourth time. Inuyasha sighed, but forbore from snapping at him: it was a sign of how rattled the priest truly was – how rattled they all were – that they could not seem to absorb the truth of this extraordinary development.

Something very, very strange had happened to Sesshoumaru.

He’d suffered the shock of a lifetime, dragging the crumpled, blood-soaked body out into the bright-lit clearing. Instead of the tall, elegant form he’d expected, the body was that of a young inuyoukai, no more than a child; the blood was Sesshoumaru’s, the scent was Sesshoumaru’s, and it bore all of Sesshoumaru’s markings, but it had none of his battle scars, and _two_ hands –

And then Inuyasha had remembered an old, half-forgotten episode from his youth, when Sesshoumaru had been his protector rather than his tormentor. _When stalking birds, Inuyasha,_ he remembered the cool, impassive voice saying, _remember that they, too, have claws – see, here. I was your age – barely seven – and thought that I could raid a magpie’s nest on my own. I still have the scars…_

Four faded silver lines on his left forearm, the arm that Inuyasha had cut away.

“He has been turned into a child,” Kagome had said, voicing the thought for all of them. Voicing it, however, had not made it any less incredible, and they all spared a moment to stare at the limp, small body, as if it could give them the answers they sought.

Now, an hour later, they had set up camp a few miles away from the clearing, away from the blood scent, and Kagome had done her best to patch up the child Sesshoumaru’s wounds. They were deep, some of them quite serious, despite the obvious healing powers of Tenseiga and the boy’s own body. To Inuyasha’s eyes, that meant only one thing – he’d been in a fight. And then – because he was Sesshoumaru, and would never camp near the gory aftermath of his various slaughters – he had flown, or walked, or crawled quite a distance before collapsing under those trees. Just to make sure, he’d sent Sango out to scout the area, to try to find out where those injuries had occurred, and how.

Soft, suppressed groans and signs of movement jolted Inuyasha out of his daze and focused his attention on the boy. He was waking up. “How much do you think he remembers?” Kagome asked quietly, putting a gentle hand on his brow.

Inuyasha frowned. “What do you mean? Why should he have forgotten anything?”

“Well, surely, if he’s been turned back into a child, then maybe his memory has regressed, too.” For a brief moment, her eyes softened and she smoothed the boy’s – _Sesshoumaru’s! –_ soft, white hair away from his face with almost maternal care.

“Uh, Kagome,” he began cautiously, exchanging bemused looks with Miroku. But before he could embark upon a very delicate course, he was thankfully interrupted.

“Kagome,” Sango said quietly, stripping off her exterminator’s gloves as she strode into the campsite, Kirara and Shippou riding on her shoulders. “I scouted out the area, following the blood trail back to the beginning. There are four dead youkai – scavengers, by the look of them – in a ravine some two miles north of where we found him.” She gestured downwards to indicate the child Sesshoumaru, and for a moment, her mouth tightened. “They were hacked crudely apart, with acid burns all over them; it was as if their attacker knew what he was doing, but didn’t have the power – or the skill – to do it quickly and neatly.”

Inuyasha grunted. He knew what she was talking about; it took time, physical strength, and endless practice until killing became an ingrained reflex. Sesshoumaru might know, intellectually, how to massacre four bandits without breaking a sweat, but if his body was weak, unpracticed, and already seriously injured - 

Kagome’s hand froze on Sesshoumaru’s hair. Very, very carefully she lifted it, her expression horrified as she realized that she had been _petting_ him.

“I suggest, miko, that you keep your hands to yourself, next time,” the young boy said, opening his eyes and forcing himself up to a sitting position. His voice was unbroken, and quite pure, and his ashen-pale, childish features were ridiculously young. And, although he tried to hide it, Inuyasha could see just how much his injuries pained him, his normally fluid movements slow and sluggish.

But then his flat, golden eyes met Inuyasha’s – and they were not the eyes of a child, or of an innocent. They were killer’s eyes, showing a killer’s soul trapped in a child’s body. 

Inuyasha shivered.

***


	2. Chapter 2

_The silence alerted him to trouble._

_In the cool, scented dark of the night, he missed the constant drone of cicadas and the rustle of the wind in the trees. He lifted his head, scenting the air –_

_“Sesshoumaru-sama!” the little girl’s scream pierced the night._

_He shot upright, scattering sparks and embers from the fire, and his hand flew to Tenseiga. Reacting instinctively to the terror in Rin’s voice, he flew out into the night, only to come up short at the sight that greeted him._

_Four men, clad in all-enveloping black, stood just before the tree line. One man, the leader, wore the robes of an onmyoji mystic, and the other three wore acolyte robes. Jaken and Ah-Un were black, too-still lumps in the firelight, and Rin was struggling, kicking and screaming as she tried to escape from the acolyte who held her tightly in his arms._

_“Sesshoumaru-sama,” the masked onmyoji purred, inclining his head in a mockery of respect._

_“Who are you?” Sesshoumaru asked, very softly, his hand clenched tight on Tenseiga’s hilt. “What do you want with this Sesshoumaru?”_

_“Oh, no, Sesshoumaru-sama,” the onmyoji replied obsequiously, “we have no grievance against you. We have come for the girl.”_

_Sesshoumaru’s eyes darkened and a low, primitive snarl rumbled in his throat. He flicked Tenseiga’s locking hilt free of the sheath, a cold, unmistakable threat –_

_The other two acolytes held their palms together and intoned a low, droning chant. Sesshoumaru could feel power gathering around him, feel the binding charm settle upon him._

_“We do not wish to cause trouble. If you do not struggle, Sesshoumaru-sama, if you let us take your troublesome mortal follower off your hands, then it will be easier on all of us.”_

_“Sesshoumaru-sama!” Rin screamed again, her eyes wide, dark, and pleading._

_Sesshoumaru’s eyes flashed red, and his snarling intensified. He flared his youki, testing the binding charm – he was the Taiyoukai of the West, and no petty incantation could hold him. But as he struggled, the binding tightened, and tightened…_

_“Very well, then. You have chosen the hard way – the harder you fight, the more you will lose. The binding will wear off at dawn, but don’t try to follow us. Forget the girl, Sesshoumaru-sama; you will be better for it. She weakens you. We have merely taken her off your hands.”_

_And they began to edge backwards into the trees, carrying the screaming girl with them. Rin screamed and cried, and Sesshoumaru struggled uselessly against the binding, expending nearly every bit of strength he had. But the barrier held firm, and he grew steadily weaker and weaker._

_He watched, maddened, as they vanished into the forest. He could hear Rin’s screams echoing for a long, long time, before the binding finally dissipated. But when he could move again, he discovered a terrible, shocking change._

_*****_

“How did this happen, Sesshoumaru?” Inuyasha asked, uneasily fascinated by the change in his brother. They were eating bowls of ramen, quietly provided by a still-embarrassed Kagome. At least Inuyasha and the others were eating – Sesshoumaru had stared down at the proffered bowl, before slowly turning his head away. On any other kid, it would have been insufferable – but this was Sesshoumaru.

And Sesshoumaru, maddening as always, only blinked and refused to answer.

“What happened to Rin?” Shippou dared to ask, half-hiding behind Inuyasha. “And that toad?” He cringed, ducking down out of sight when Sesshoumaru turned his eyes towards him. Inuyasha scowled and pulled him back up by his tail –

The only thing Sesshoumaru despised more than weakness was cowardice.

“Jaken is dead,” Sesshoumaru said flatly. “And Rin is gone.”

There was a small beat of silence, before the questions came thick and fast. Shippou, Sango and Kagome – all of whom had been enchanted by the young girl – were genuinely dismayed, demanding to know what had happened, and why, and how. But Sesshoumaru merely veiled his eyes, and said nothing.

****

_A_ _small, serene spring lay near their campsite, and Sesshoumaru stumbled over towards it, collapsing on his knees by the bank. Bending over the water, he peered at his wavering, blurred reflection, not willing to believe what he knew to be true –_

_He looked upon his face as it had been in his youth, before he reached his full growth. Flexing his claws, he called forth his poison with some difficulty – it had flowered in his adolescence, and as he was now he could produce only a weakened version. Less confidently, he tried to create his energy whip, but with no success. Unlike Dokkasou, his whip was formed of his youki, and in this body his youki was not yet strong enough for such manipulations._

_Frustrated, he reached within himself, triggering his transformation. His eyes bled red and his markings and features grew jagged, his body stretching, growing – and then he snarled, and halted the change. He would become a half-grown, uncoordinated pup, his coat bright white. And in this region, so far from his own territories, there were enemies on every side._

***

“What about Tenseiga?” Inuyasha, still subdued, managed to look remarkably awkward. He gestured uneasily at Tenseiga, discreetly not mentioning Sesshoumaru’s white-knuckled grip. “Why didn’t it…?”

Sesshoumaru wondered why the hanyou was so uneasy. It was intolerable to think that Inuyasha would pity him. 

“I tried,” he said flatly. “It didn’t work.”

He was much smaller, and his muscles much weaker: drawn, Tenseiga had been heavy and unbalanced in his wavering grip. He’d slashed the air over Jaken and Ah-Un’s body, but nothing had happened –

It was enough, apparently, that his father’s fang had preserved his own life against the binding spell. Perhaps it was no longer strong enough, now that he was a child, to wrench souls back from the Underworld – or perhaps it was an omen that he would need to focus on his own survival before worrying about anyone else’s.

In the course of his life, in his pursuit of power, he had amassed quite a number of bitter enemies. Once word spread that he was somehow rendered vulnerable -

The dragon was an unnecessary indulgence, and the toad would only serve to slow him down.

**** 

_It had been a long time since he’d found stealth necessary, but he still remembered the way of it. Slipping cautiously through the shadowed woods he’d followed in the wake of the onmyouji, determined to track them to the ends of the earth if need be. It was a goal, in this strange new reality, and he focused the entire extent of his formidable will upon it._

_He’d not gone far when he heard the forest grow still and felt the approach of several low-grade youki. He bent his knees, concentrated, and leapt upwards, cursing as he misjudged the necessary height before gripping onto the tree trunk with his claws, scrabbling for purchase on a lower limb – then, slowly, carefully, he flattened himself along one of the branches, straining his ears to listen as they spoke._

_“…ridiculous. I don’t believe it. Never trust human sorcerers…”_

_“…the girl. He would never leave her. …watches over her…”_

_“It’s another girl…thousands of them around… This is Sesshoumaru! You can’t believe…too dangerous…”_

_Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed. The speakers, a rough, undisciplined rabble – common bandits, by the look of them – passed under his perch as they argued. Had the onmyouji sent them after him with promises of the wealth and power they would gain, once they were known as the men who slew Sesshoumaru of the West?_

_“Stop! What’s that? Did you hear something?” The bandits hesitated, drawing into a tightly packed group bristling with crude weapons._

_Sesshoumaru became aware that he was growling, his claws slicing deeply into the branch below him. He forced his hands to loosen, and clenched his teeth shut, clamping off any further noise. But it was too late – they’d already heard him._

_“Spread out! Search the forest – shout if you see anything!”_

_“You won’t see anything,” another hissed. “He’ll kill us all before –”_

_“Shut up! You heard what the humans said. He’s helpless!”_

_Sesshoumaru’s claws flexed, his whole body tautening as he longed to show them just how helpless he truly was, but circumstances and a healthy dose of practical realism forced him to stop and think, to evaluate his chances – he was no longer a hot-blooded, reckless pup, to charge in heedless of the odds._

_There were twelve of them, full-grown. Once, he would have killed them all with a negligent flick of his wrist – but now, his eyes feral amber, he glared down at them in furious frustration, knowing that there was nothing he could do. He was actually considering working his way around them, no matter how much it stung his pride, when there was a shout, and he saw one of the bandits pointing up towards his hiding place._

_“He’s up in the tree! He’s been watching us all along!” There was a shrill note of terror in the bandit’s voice._

_“Well, bring it down! We’ll overwhelm him on the ground!”_

_Sesshoumaru felt shock vibrate through the whole tree as the youkai below him attacked it with their swords, trying to cut through the trunk, or rammed into it with their full strength, trying to uproot it. He prepared to jump to another tree, but jerked back in surprise as an arrow whistled past his nose, missing him by a hairsbreadth. He snarled, swaying precariously as the tree rocked; another arrow barely missed him, and he gathered himself for the jump –_

_“There he is! There he is!”_

_He jumped, but had a bad start, and could feel himself falling – he reached out, his claws extended, hoping to find a grip as he fell, and he jerked and cried out as an arrow grazed his arm, distracting him so that he missed his mark. There was a great deal of pain and noise as he plummeted, crashing into branches and ripping leaves as he went. He hit the ground with a great thump, his breath driven out of him, his body heaving as he tried to gasp in air. Painfully, he pushed himself back to his feet, pushing the hair out of his eyes – and then came face to face with the bandits, who were staring at him in undisguised shock._

_“Get him!” The leader shouted. The bandits roared in approval, running towards him, swords and spears waving._

_Sesshoumaru ran._

_***_

“Not long after that," Sesshoumaru said, "I encountered the bandits. The rest you know.”

***

“Sesshoumaru-sama?” Rin whimpered, shivering and afraid. She didn’t like it here. She wanted to go back to Sesshoumaru-sama, and Jaken-sama, and Ah-Un, and dance through sunny fields full of meadow-flowers. She couldn’t sleep in this stuffy room, enclosed in screens and walls, instead of out under the stars by Sesshoumaru’s side, with the cool night breezes and the crackling warmth of a fire…

Sniffing, she felt a big fat tear roll down her cheek. Defiantly, she scrubbed it away. Sesshoumaru-sama did not cry, and so nor would she.

She would be brave. Sesshoumaru-sama was _not_ dead, and he _would_ come to rescue her.


	3. Chapter 3

The chief onmyouji looked down at the little girl huddled so pathetically in the corner of her small cell. She was dirty, her bare feet brown and dusty, her hair ragged and full of leaves, and she was dressed in a torn, patched yukata that barely reached her shins. Tears had traced paler paths in her round, childish face, and her small fists were clenched against her mouth as she struggled not to show her fear.

_This_ girl, this dirty peasant brat, was what the Western Lord had chosen to revive. So many others had been left to die, so many high, powerful nobles who could have made Japan great once more – and _this_ brat was the one he chose to steal from death.

It was disgusting. It was infuriating. It was… It was…

No matter. The thing was done.

Peasant or not, the child was twice-born. And so she was exactly what he needed for his working.

**

It was hard to believe, in the cold light of day, that Sesshoumaru could actually have been turned into a child. Surely he was too dangerous, too powerful; surely he would have made mincemeat out of anyone who dared threaten him in any way. But, when Kagome woke up in the morning, there he was: resplendent in his white silken extravagance, his long white hair perfectly groomed – just over five feet tall and looking only a few years younger than Inuyasha. His haughty, supercilious expression looked absolutely ridiculous on his young face –

Swallowing, she made his way to his perch and sat beside him, noting his twitch as he registered her presence. 

“Good morning, Sesshoumaru,” she said as cordially as she could, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am healed, miko,” he said shortly. “I am not, however, feeling any better.”

With a feeling of surprise, she saw that it was true – all his wounds were healed, even the most serious ones, with not even a scar to show for it. But he was still, undeniably, a child.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured softly, unable to imagine what he might be feeling, underneath that calm, impassive mask. Feeling utterly inadequate, she cleared her throat. “Are you going to have breakfast? You didn’t eat anything last night.”

“I do not eat your filthy food, human,” he sneered angrily.

“Oh,” she said, taken aback by such naked hostility.

“Hey, you ungrateful prick,” Inuyasha snarled, coming down from his perch in the trees as bad tempered as he always was in the morning, “you should be thankful that we took you in, instead of turning your nose up at everything.”

Sesshoumaru glared at him. “Be silent, half-breed. If you’d stop yapping long enough, I was about to announce my departure.”

“Good!” Inuyasha growled, clashing disastrously with Kagome’s “Oh, but you can’t!”

Sango, Miroku and Shippou, woken by the voices, saw what was brewing and managed to fade discreetly into the background, all three of them watching avidly.

“You won’t last a day out there on your own, Sesshoumaru,” Kagome continued, her warm heart in her eyes. “You’re just a boy. You’re not strong enough.”

“Keh,” Inuyasha swore, crossing his arms sulkily. “Let him go. He’ll find out soon enough.” 

Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need your support, _hanyou._ ”

“Inuyasha, tell him he’s not strong enough.”

Inuyasha looked at his elder brother, who was now a good head shorter than him and probably only weighed half of his former weight. “Yeah, Sesshoumaru,” he said, his smile wide and insolent. “You’re just a boy. You’re not strong enough.”

Sesshoumaru snarled, showing his teeth, letting his eyes bleed crimson for a moment. Inuyasha laughed in cruel delight. “Is that the best you can do? Come on, great Lord of the West. Impress me.” He stood back, opening his arms wide as if inviting an attack.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome chided him. She turned to Sesshoumaru. “Come on, Sesshoumaru. Be reasonable. What are you going to do? Track your attackers across Japan on your own? These lands are infested with mindless youkai –”

She was so used to scolding and persuading stubborn, hotheaded Kouga and Inuyasha that she did not think of the danger, but heedlessly put a warm, comforting hand on Sesshoumaru’s forearm. With a shocked sense of disbelief, she felt his outrage, felt his body coil, and only just managed to snatch her hand back a scant moment before he could crush every bone in her wrist.

Inuyasha snarled, and grabbed Sesshoumaru by the scruff of the neck, jerking him off his feet. Sesshoumaru turned on him, claws extended, but Inuyasha shook his elder brother like a rat.

Kagome cried out in horrified dismay. “Inuyasha, stop!” 

But the two brothers were beyond hearing, now: Sesshoumaru’s rage, frustration and tattered pride battling Inuyasha’s hatred and his need to protect her. Teeth and claws flashed and pearls of blood flew; Sesshoumaru was the more experienced and the more skilled, but Inuyasha was taller, and stronger, and driven by years of Sesshoumaru’s taunts and slurs.

There was no mercy on other side – Inuyasha raked his claws down the child Sesshoumaru’s back, tearing bloody furrows through the white silk, and Sesshoumaru plunged his green, glowing fingers into Inuyasha’s neck, hoping to pierce the artery. Inuyasha jerked out of the way, cursing, his eyes blind with feral rage – he grabbed Sesshoumaru’s hair and pulled his head back, his jaws snapping for his neck. Sesshoumaru twisted in Inuyasha’s hold, striking with hands and feet, a whirling, snarling dervish – but Inuyasha slowly but surely closed his grip, neutralizing the claws, twisting out of the way of those fierce teeth –

One hand finally closed around the frantically struggling Sesshoumaru’s neck, and Inuyasha laughed triumphantly as he prepared to snap it.

_“Sit!”_ Kagome shouted.

Inuyasha went crashing to the ground, Sesshoumaru trapped under him.

“Oh no!” Kagome exclaimed, hurrying over to the new depression in the ground, preparing to roll Inuyasha over and rescue Sesshoumaru.

Sango grabbed her and held her back. “No, Kagome! He’ll kill you –”

In that moment, it was not quite clear which one of them the taijiya meant. But it soon became evident, as Inuyasha growled and picked himself up, swearing angrily at her and dusting himself off – but Sesshoumaru…

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but his eyes were more than eloquent enough.

After that, no more was said of Sesshoumaru leaving their little group. But Inuyasha never turned his back on his brother again.


	4. Chapter 4

Sesshoumaru was glaring at him. Inuyasha could _feel_ it: his nerves were quivering, and the hair on the back of his neck was crawling with alarm. He was sitting high up in his tree, facing away from the village, and he could still feel that malevolent, hate-filled gaze boring into him. But Inuyasha was accustomed to Sesshoumaru’s hatred; the only difference now was in the level of animosity.

Kagome, warm-hearted and compassionate, was inclined to think that Sesshoumaru would soon see reason and focus his hatred on the true architects of the situation – the men who had forced him into his childish form. But Sesshoumaru was not a creature of reason, or logic, or anything but his own desires. And he had been humiliated, badly, first by his forced reversion, and then by his weakness, and then finally by Inuyasha himself – although Inuyasha would do it again, a thousand times over, just for the glorious sweetness of that one, perfect moment.

Still basking in the memory of Sesshoumaru’s face, Inuyasha heard Kagome’s footsteps on the undergrowth, heard her approach the base of his tree. “Inuyasha!” she called out imperiously. “Come down.”

He peered down at her, scowling automatically despite his mellow mood. “Why should I?”

Her mouth set, her eyes narrowed, and she stamped her foot. “I can sense jewel shards to the north, _baka_. But if you’re not interested –”

He leapt off his perch, landing so close to her she took an involuntary step back. “Why didn’t you say so?” he demanded. “I can’t wait to get out of here and ditch that over bred cur –”

Something about Kagome’s stubborn, confrontational stance warned him. “Sesshoumaru’s coming with us,” she said adamantly.

Inuyasha blinked. “The fuck he is!”

“Inuyasha,” she scowled, drawing out his name in a way he particularly hated, “we can’t leave him alone in the village. Who knows what the villagers will do to him?”

“What the _villagers_ will do to _him_?” he sputtered. “Oi, Kagome – he’s not nice. He _hates_ humans, and –”

“He’s a _child,_ Inuyasha. Whatever he was before, he’s alone and vulnerable now; we can’t just abandon him.”

Inuyasha disagreed. He saw a rather appealing symmetry in the idea – after all, Sesshoumaru had abandoned him in the wild, after tiring of an indifferent guardianship.

But Kagome was having none of it. “He’s coming with us and that’s it,” she told him, her folded arms and narrowed, impatient eyes signals of an impending flash of temper. Signals, also, of her readiness to invoke the rosary; recognizing his danger, he backed down, glaring and muttering under his breath.

**

Six days. Six days since he’d been turned into this…this _mockery_ of his former self, and four days since his half-brother and his motley crew had brought him to this flea-infested human village. Since then, he’d hidden in the old miko’s house, cowering in corners and shadows, careful to avoid human notice – it went against every single instinct he possessed, chafing his spirit in ways he hadn’t even known possible.

Be rational, Inuyasha’s human wench told him. Think. Is your pride really worth so much?

But he was not rational, and he didn’t want to think. He wanted to lash out, rip his enemies to pieces with his own bare claws – and failing his enemies, he would settle for these dull, bovine humans with their filthy, dirt- and manure-covered hands and their wretched superstitions and pitiful concerns. He wanted to _kill,_ to prove himself more than a weak, useless cripple – he wanted to see fear in his victims’ eyes again, not contempt and amusement. 

Outside, he could hear the hanyou and his wench shouting at each other, her voice shrill and strident as she insisted that he was a child, too vulnerable to be left alone –

A child.

A _child._

He’d show them how vulnerable and weak he was, he’d tear their mocking, laughing eyes out and make them _eat_ them, erasing the memory of his _weakness._

“Kagome is naive,” the old miko said tranquilly, ignoring his red eyes and sub vocal growling, “but she has a good heart. You would be a monster indeed, if you took advantage of her.”

Glaring furiously at the old, one-eyed hag, he flexed his claws, imagined plunging them into her sour, wrinkled face and _tearing._

“You won’t kill me, boy,” she grunted, her hands busy sorting and tying herbs. “I’m not fool enough to think you weak, but I _do_ think you honourable, in your own way.”

_Boy._ He remembered this wretched crone’s grandmother as a snivelling, terrified babe. He remembered when this cursed flyspeck village was nothing more than an encampment in the wilderness –

But she had given him shelter.

Frustrated, thwarted, he let his eyes bleed back to gold.

“Sesshoumaru!” the half-breed snarled, ducking his head into the hut and scowling at him sullenly. “We leave in half an hour.” And with that, he stomped away, cursing, his bad temper clear for all to see.

_That_ was what his father had died for.

**

In rather more than half an hour, they set out for the north, Kagome on her bicycle with Shippou in the front basket, Inuyasha bounding along, a red and white streak, Sango, Miroku and Kirara traveling at a more sedate walk. Sesshoumaru followed behind, his eyes fixed on the northern horizon, his thoughts a complete mystery. He was simply _there_ , not speaking, not interacting in any real way, and not – despite Inuyasha’s dark predictions – trying to murder them in their sleep.

But Sango had to wonder just how safe it was, to have such an unpredictable ally in their midst. Kagome might swear that he was safe, but the exterminator remembered the mad, feral look in Sesshoumaru’s eyes after Inuyasha had humiliated him, and remembered all the dark stories, whispered round the dying fire, of the Western Lord and his rise to power. Once, only once, had anyone tried to rise against him.

Youkai were not human. They were not social creatures, as humans were, with a sense of connection and responsibility to their fellow beings. Youkai were solitary, supremely self-centred, and unconcerned with ethics, morals, or empathy. And the worst of all, her father had taught her, were the great ones, the taiyoukai – the smooth, sleek, beautiful ones who could pass for human but who _weren’t._ The danger lay in believing they would act as humans did, and finding out, too late, that they had no heart, no soul, nothing but self-interest.

“Hey, Sesshoumaru,” Inuyasha called out lazily, as his elder brother fell a little behind, “don’t stray too far away. I don’t want to have to keep rescuing your poor, weak ass whenever you get into trouble.”

Sango sighed. This sort of thing didn’t help, either.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome snapped.

“The day I need your worthless help to save me, hanyou,” Sesshoumaru replied coolly, “I will take my own life and save the enemy the trouble.”

Things went downhill after that.

**

Night fell, and they camped in a little hollow in the woods. Inuyasha stayed on the ground, Tessaiga clutched possessively to his shoulder, his eyes fixed on Sesshoumaru’s every movement. The others, still unnerved by the taiyoukai’s silent presence, moved silently and a little awkwardly at their accustomed tasks; Kagome tried to draw him into conversation but gave up when he simply looked at her, his eyes reflecting the firelight with an eerie glow. Finally, they settled in for an awkward night’s sleep, leaving Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru awake, staring at each other over the dying fire.

“If you touch one hair on Kagome’s head,” Inuyasha began, “I will rip you apart.”

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but held his gaze steadily. Here, with this simple statement, devoid of bravado, bluff, or insolence, was what he suspected was the core of Inuyasha’s strength. He remembered, more than fifty years ago, a young pup who had showed small signs of such strength.

“I’m not a fool, Sesshoumaru. This change must be disastrous for you.”

In the quiet dark, with no one else listening, Inuyasha could say such things. Sesshoumaru could allow himself to imagine the consequences that would flow from the news of his…condition. And two brothers could connect, so very cautiously, in a way that would be impossible in the morning.

“Our father ruled over the West for more than a thousand years, Inuyasha. Some of the humans thought him a god, dealing death with one hand, and granting life with the other.”

Inuyasha frowned. “Tessaiga and Tenseiga?”

“Legends sprang up, myths; mystics, groping in the dark for the unattainable, sought for divine explanations. They began to speak of _twice-born_ , those few that Father thought worthy of reviving. They thought they had some kind of power, that they could penetrate the mysteries of the Veil –”

Inuyasha snorted.

“Yes. Some of them sought to take Tenseiga from him, once, before he wiped them out. But not even he could wipe out every clan of mystics in Yamato, and the legends persist, even now.”

Inuyasha’s brow furrowed as he tried to process what Sesshoumaru had told him, to fit it to the circumstances in which he had found him –

“The girl?” he asked, frowning. “You revived her? And they stole her, to – what? Use her in their rites? Draw you in, so they can take Tenseiga for themselves?”

Sesshoumaru was silent for a long, long while, his small, half-grown hands absently caressing Tenseiga’s hilt, reassuring it, reassuring himself. He did not look childish, nor in any way weak or vulnerable.

“Whatever their motives,” he said, half under his breath, “I will hunt them down to the very ends of the earth, if need be.” He looked up, suddenly. “Once I find the mystics, I will regain what they took from me – in the meantime, I will not demean myself by tormenting you or your useless companions.” 

It was a promise, of sorts. Inuyasha took it in the spirit it was offered, scowling and snapping some sort of retort; they both knew that in the morning, this strange council would be forgotten, and the normal order of things would resume.


	5. Chapter 5

Rin dreamed.

In her dream, she followed Sesshoumaru-sama and Jaken-sama through a great, sunlit meadow filled with beautiful flowers. The sky was blue, and stretched for miles and miles in all directions –

_She still refuses to eat, Seimei-san. All she does is cry and hide herself in the corner, sleeping._

Sesshoumaru-sama’s hair drifted on the warm breeze, and Rin remembered what it was like when those fine white strands fell all around her, as she curled up against him on the cold winter nights –

_Make her eat then, fool. She’s no good to us dead._

“Rin,” Sesshoumaru-sama said, turning to stare at her with his beautiful golden eyes, “I am coming.”

_Look, she’s smiling. I wonder what she sees when she dreams._

**

The next night, Shippou watched Sesshoumaru out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he was thinking. With his vivid eyes closed, Sesshoumaru’s face was even more of a mask – the breeze stirred his hair and clothes, the firelight threw illumination and shadow over his luminous skin, but he sat unnaturally still, and looked like an eerie stone carving. It was a little creepy, actually: Shippou was so used to Inuyasha, who was, in some ways, so like Sesshoumaru – but who was always so restless and vibrant. The only time Inuyasha was still was when he was truly injured.

“Se-Sesshoumaru?” he asked tentatively, his voice nervous and shaking.

Sesshoumaru opened his eyes, and Shippou, lost in amber, swallowed. “What were you, er…concentrating on?”

Slowly, the taiyoukai stirred, and then rose, turning his head to the north.

Almost immediately, Inuyasha’s eyes snapped open, his hands clenching on Tessaiga’s hilt. He jumped up, bristling all over, and whipped it out of its scabbard, where it transformed in a puff of smoke.

Shippou could feel it now, too: a wave of foul, dark youki rolling towards them. Kagome, Sango and Miroku had also awakened, and were staring at the dark clouds on the horizon. They all looked worried, but Inuyasha was grinning fiercely and ready to go –

And so, too, was Sesshoumaru, his eyes narrowed and his fingers glowing green.

** 

The dream had been particularly vivid. He could still smell the rich, pungent earth, and the almost overpowering stench of the wildflowers she delighted in plucking. He could feel the warm sun on his back, and see the innocent trust in her eyes as she laughed, and rushed forward to hug him –

He clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, small rivulets of coppery, poisonous blood trickling out through his fingers. The hanyou sent him a puzzled look, before turning his attention back to the approaching enemies.

“They’re cave trolls!” Inuyasha announced – unnecessarily, Sesshoumaru thought – to the group.

As he’d expected, the exterminator noticed the implications of that statement before anyone else. “But that’s not right,” she protested, frowning a little. “Cave trolls would never venture out into the open.”

“I can feel a jewel shard,” the miko cried, grabbing her bow and quiver. “That’s probably what’s wrong: they’ve been corrupted.” As she nocked an arrow and pulled back a little on the string, he could feel the energy rise in her; the old woman had mentioned her purifying abilities as a last warning, before they left.

She was probably capable of giving him a nasty shock, if she ever lost her conviction that he was now no better than a helpless pup, to be protected and fussed over by his mother.

Sesshoumaru didn’t care if she was as powerful as Midoriko; if she tried to pet him once more, cooing and reassuring him that it was all right now, he didn’t need to fear, he would not be responsible for his actions.

Even now, she deliberately placed herself squarely in front of him.

The monk saw his sardonic glance at her back, saw the lazy clench and stretch of his glowing fingers, and hastened to intervene. “Ah, Kagome-sama,” he called, his smooth, flexible voice reflecting none of his worry, “perhaps it might be better if you stood at the rear. You would have more time to aim, then, to make doubly sure that every arrow counts.”

She frowned; cast a worried glance at Sesshoumaru. “Oh, but… are you sure it will be safe?”

“Oh, I think he can take care of himself,” the exterminator assured her. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

Sesshoumaru scowled, but finally the miko agreed to let him fight. At least she knew better than to treat him like the fox kit, who was cowering in the upper reaches of a tree, concentrating on blending in with the leaves and branches.

As the maddened demons drew closer, Sesshoumaru felt his blood rise, felt all the frustration and anger of the last few days condense into a cold, keen anticipation of the battle to come. His claws ached with the need to shred and tear and kill, and he cast the hanyou and his overgrown sword a possessive glare, warning him off.

“Mine,” he growled.

**

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. Two weeks ago, Sesshoumaru would not have bothered to soil his claws with cave trolls, considering them utterly unworthy of his time and attention. Now he wanted a whole tribe of them?

Well, he was probably biting off more than he could chew, in his new, half-grown body, but Inuyasha was not going to stand in his way. He knew Sesshoumaru, knew that any attempt to bring him to reason would be doomed from the start; the arrogant, superior bastard was entirely too convinced of his own superiority.

Let him go up against nine or ten maddened cave trolls. Inuyasha would sit back and relax, watching in comfort as they pounded Sesshoumaru into the ground. And then, just before they ground his bones to flour, he would step in and wipe them out in one huge _Kaze no Kizu._

“Sure,” he said, retransforming Tessaiga and sweeping his arm out, “go ahead. Take ‘em all.”

**

Well aware of the direction of his brother’s thoughts, Sesshoumaru ignored Inuyasha’s smirk and strode out in the direction of the approaching youkai, his blood humming with delighted anticipation. He could feel the wind in his hair, the cool dampness of the night on his skin, and he knew that it was a good night for killing.

There were ten of them, all huge, muscular beasts dressed in crude leather skins made from their unfortunate human victims, with the over-large, luminous eyes of underground cave dwellers. They had no intelligence to speak of, but possessed a vicious animal cunning and a flair for inventing cruel, brutal deaths for their victims. Their hides were extremely rough and thick, but they were easily blinded and their eyes were their vulnerable point: always before, he had simply lashed his whip across their face, burning their eyes out of their heads, and then shoved his claws deep into their brains. But now, without his whip, without his normal height and reach, the battle would be far more interesting.

He stopped, in the middle of a rich, green meadow filled with wildflowers, and allowed the trolls to lumber forward and encircle him, their slow ponderous movements and unbearable reek all filling his mind and senses until he forgot that Rin was missing, that his servants were dead, and that he himself had been so humiliatingly transformed.

He was Sesshoumaru, the ultimate predator, the aristocratic assassin, and he was going to take back his life.

**

“Inuyasha, what the hell were you thinking?” Kagome hissed, gripping her bow so tightly it was wobbling. “He can’t handle all ten of them on his own.”

“Keh.” Inuyasha shrugged. “Let him try. He thinks he can take them all; he’ll never believe he can’t until they squash him under their feet.”

“And when he’s squashed under their feet?” she asked, a vein at her temple throbbing ominously. “What then?”

Inuyasha regarded her with an expression of smug superiority. “Relax, Kagome. This is _Sesshoumaru._ No cave troll is ever going to kill _him._ And besides, Tenseiga’ll probably whisk him out of danger anyway.”

“It sounds as though you have a lot of faith in him, Inuyasha,” Sango teased.

He rounded on her. “I don’t! I hate the bastard’s guts!”

“Yes, but even now, you don’t believe that anything can ever kill him.”

“Keh.” Crossing his arms, he scowled ferociously. But it was true: to an awed, fearful younger brother, Sesshoumaru had always seemed to be indestructible. He was insufferable, maddening, and arrogant enough to make Inuyasha’s blood boil, but he was the biggest, baddest son of a bitch in Japan, and Inuyasha had never doubted it.

Why else did he try so hard to measure up to him?

No cave trolls were ever going to stomp his brother beneath their feet. And Inuyasha was looking forward to the look on the bastard’s face when he had to step in and rescue him.

**

The trolls peered down at him malevolently from their great height. Sesshoumaru stood, a proud, white figure, and then without warning leapt straight up in the air, spinning, claws extended to rake a great, poisonous furrow down the side of one’s face. He deftly avoided the club, swung in anger and irritation, and came back down in exactly the same spot. It was a taunting opener: the trolls’ hides were thick, and his poison would only sting and irritate them, but it would soon madden them into action.

They growled, advancing, closing in on him. He leapt up again, spinning, and raked his claws down another troll’s face, and another’s, and another’s, stinging them, irritating them, goading them into a violent frenzy. They swung, and their clubs smashed into the earth with jarring, groundbreaking thuds. But he was always two steps ahead of their reactions, his speed and agility more than making up for their strength and reach.

The next time, he dug his claws in and tore a great chunk of bleeding flesh out, spraying his poison directly into the wound; the troll roared in agony, flailing his arms and catching Sesshoumaru a glancing blow, sending him flying. He landed ten metres away, skidding into the soil with the force of the impact.

Slowly, wiping a small trickle of blood from his mouth, he grinned.

This time, there were no games. The trolls, maddened by his poison, infuriated by his dodging and weaving, were determined to squash him like a bug. Sesshoumaru, determined to prove his strength, was set on slaughtering them all and silencing all the fools who had ever thought him weak. The trolls swung their great arms and clubs with unbelievable strength, but Sesshoumaru leapt, spun and rolled away, a taunting white ghost in their luminous eyes, and then came in to claw and rend. Two trolls, more intelligent than the others, tried to trap him between them: they waited, biding their time, watching him carefully, and then when he came down they swung together, trying to crush him between their two clubs. He saw the trap in time and leapt up, straight into a third troll’s fist.

This time, he flew fifteen metres, tumbling head over feet and coming to an abrupt stop against a huge tree, the breath savagely knocked out of him. He gasped and struggled for breath, forcing himself to his knees as leaves rained down around him. The trolls lumbered straight towards him, and he stood up, staggering a little, and then went back into the fray. 

Energised by pain and adrenaline, he went into his killing mode: vicious, ice cold, and calculating. He had already scored and slashed their faces, injecting his poison into the dripping open wounds. His poison, weak as it was, was already working its way through their bloodstreams – whatever the outcome of this fight, they would die in the next two or three days, writhing in unimaginable agony. But that was a cheap victory, a last satisfaction, and he was determined to take everything he could get. He wanted them dead, torn apart by his own claws. He wanted the sheer, primal satisfaction of a massacre, knowing what message it would send to his enemies –

He wanted _everything._

He leapt up, rammed his hand into the closest troll’s eye, and released a full burst of his poison. Then he pulled his arm out with a wet, liquid squishing sound and spun away before the last, reflexive swipe could send him flying. He rammed his claws into the second one’s throat, already a little torn and bitten, and tore its throat out with a grunt and a heave. Blood poured out, coating him like crimson rain, and he caught a mouthful of the hot, coppery liquid. He snarled, and the cold, calculating killing mind gave into his instincts. His face contorted, his markings grew, darkened, became more savage, and his mind gave into a dark, savage joy, his body acting without any real thought or calculation. 

A third troll died, its heart ripped out, a fourth with its belly gaping open, its guts spilling out onto the ground as it screamed. Tough, leathery hide was no match for his driven strength and his sharp, corrosive claws; maddened, aimless swings were easily evaded by his speed and agility. A fifth collapsed, its head bashed in, as he ducked out of the way of another troll’s club; a sixth thought to stomp him and he hamstrung it, ripping its throat out as it lay vulnerable on the ground. Tiring of games, he simply tore out the eyes of the seventh, eighth, and ninth, and then the tenth –

Ah, the tenth - 

**

Kagome had watched the slaughter with horrified fascination. She’d seen Inuyasha fight, seen him kill a hundred youkai with one swing, but that had been with Tessaiga’s power – it was only at the beginning, when they first met, that he’d relied on his claws and his own personal attacks. Even then, it had been absolutely nothing compared to what Sesshoumaru was doing now…

Nine trolls, slaughtered with joyful, vicious glee, as Sesshoumaru’s pristine white garments were gradually soaked with blood and gore, and his icy beauty changed into something far more disturbing.

Now only the tenth was left. But - 

“Inuyasha,” she said urgently, gripping his arm. “That’s the leader! He’s the one with the jewel shard!”

**

The tenth was something very interesting. Since he was the last one standing, Sesshoumaru assumed this was the one with the jewel shard. It would probably give him advanced speed, greater strength, and even more cunning.

This one was worthy prey.

Growling eagerly, Sesshoumaru rushed in, leapt –

And was swatted out of the air like a bug. He tumbled, smashed face first into the ground, and picked himself up, shaking. The troll was bearing down on him, club raised, and Sesshoumaru rolled just in time to avoid an unpleasant death. He rolled again, a moment after, and then turned it into a desperate leap as the troll _swept_ the club, rather than picking it up and slamming it down again. He flicked his wrists, trying to throw poison into the troll’s eyes, and was gratified to see him staggering back, wiping his eyes.

But the relief lasted for only a moment, as it came back, eyes red and weeping, a spark of malignant intelligence lurking deep within its brain. They went back and forth for some time, Sesshoumaru dodging, the troll sweeping, smashing, stomping; one club in each hand after it picked up one of the others’ discarded weapons. Sesshoumaru waited, his instinct watching, searching until he had an opportunity, and then he attacked, going for the vulnerable openings: ankle, groin, hamstring, elbow; but every attempt was forestalled, and he managed only stinging, irritating swipes.

But then, concentrating too hard on the clubs, he overlooked the troll’s feet –

And was driven to his knees, doubled over, retching, spitting up blood and desperately trying to breathe. For a moment, his eyes faded and his vision greyed; he could hear his heartbeat thumping wildly in his ears, and he bent over, his blood-drenched hair falling all around him.

He flipped backwards, slamming both claws into the troll’s wrist, holding up the club that would have crushed his skull like an eggshell. And he let himself go, this time, allowing the troll to toss him across the meadow – he could wear it down like this until sunrise, chancing an injury to his half-grown, still vulnerable body, or he could go for the kill, and end it now.

He did not stop to think about it.

Calling on his true nature, his original form, he _stretched,_ threw his head back in agony-ecstasy, and howled his delight to the fading moon. There, amidst the blood and guts of nine slaughtered youkai, Sesshoumaru of the West rose proud and strong and true for the first time since his brother cut off his arm in the tomb of their father –

**

“Merciful Buddha,” Miroku breathed, awe-struck and terrified. Sango, witnessing for the first time the true power of the Inuyoukai of the West, could only agree.

Inuyasha only sighed. It seemed he was right – Sesshoumaru was still invincible, after all. Still, he caressed Tessaiga’s hilt and remembered a great skeleton, and the glorious triumph of a sword that answered to his call, a weapon that finally allowed him a chance against his half-brother - 

The troll had no such chance. The great white dog overwhelmed it, its poisonous jaws and terrible claws ripping the troll apart with vicious, feral abandon. And then, when it was done, it threw back its head and howled triumphantly at the moon, its victory call echoing in the night for miles and miles, all across the Western Lands.

Inuyasha snuck a look at Kagome. She was shaking with terror, her face white and horrified. All of Sesshoumaru’s snarls, glares and vicious flashes of temper had failed to convince her that he was no cute and fluffy child – but she believed now. There was nothing human in that display of death-dealing, nothing civilized in the way he proclaimed his victory.

Perhaps now she would finally understand. He was _not_ human, no matter how many little girls he had trailing after him, or how much he had changed during the search for Naraku.

He was youkai, and a killer.

**

When it was all over, when the enemy was dead and he had proclaimed his victory, he reluctantly pulled in his power, reined in his natural instincts, and transformed back into his false guise. The sense of restraint and imprisonment was terrible, for a moment, until he adjusted to the slightly dulled senses and the confines of human anatomy and human clothing.

And then, just as he knew it would, the backlash hit him, the exhaustion of the fight and the transformation –

He reeled, staggering, and collapsed face first to the ground, unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s all very well to slaughter mindless cave trolls,” Inuyasha scowled the next morning, crossing his arms belligerently, “but what are you gonna do when the bad guys are intelligent?”

Sesshoumaru did not dignify that with an answer. Standing waist-deep in a slow-running stream, Tenseiga and his blood-soaked haori tossed carelessly on the bank, he scrubbed at the dried blood streaking his chest and arms, his wet hair clinging to his back and legs.

“Hey, are you listening to me, you overbred mutt?”

His body was awkward, his limbs rounded with the remnants of childhood. But there was nothing youthful or innocent in Sesshoumaru’s eyes.

**

As much as he hated to admit it, Sesshoumaru knew that the hanyou was right. The cave trolls had been easy prey, so clumsy, so slow and simplistic, but they were among the lowest of the petty youkai – soon would come the higher youkai, with weapons and youki-powers. And then, beyond that, there were the cunning, cowardly foes like Naraku, who had frustrated him even at the height of his former power.

“I need a sword,” he muttered, pulling his hair back and wading to the bank.

Inuyasha’s ridiculous ears twitched, and he looked pointedly at Tenseiga, lying on the pile of his clothes. “What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

“It is useless to me now. I need a long, sharp metal blade, Inuyasha, nothing more: it is only the very greatest youkai who carry enchanted blades.”

“Huh.” Inuyasha smirked. “Does that mean you finally admit I’m–”

“No.” Sprawled on the riverbank, Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and reveled in the warmth of the sun. “Father commissioned it, not you.”

There was a moment of silence. “You know,” Inuyasha said, very casual, “I’ve never used an ordinary sword.”

“That much is all too apparent.”

“I mean, I used to watch human samurai training and copy their movements with sticks, but before Tetsusaiga I’ve never really -”

“Inuyasha,” Sesshoumaru sighed, propped himself on one elbow and turned to his younger brother. “You swing that sword like a meat cleaver.”

Stung, Inuyasha scowled. “Well, it’s not my fault!”

“Let me tell you, little brother, it is most assuredly your fault. Watching humans and playing with sticks –”

“How the hell else am I supposed to learn? Who else was going to teach me? You?”

They glared at each other, two stubborn, white-haired boys with identical golden eyes. 

“Very well then,” Sesshoumaru said. “I will.”

**

Too many times, Inuyasha had found himself flat on his back with Sesshoumaru’s foot on his throat. For as long as he could remember, his elder brother had been stronger, faster, more powerful – even now, when Inuyasha could pick him up by the scruff of his neck, Sesshoumaru still had all the knowledge and experience of his centuries of existence.

“Show me how you hold your sword,” Sesshoumaru ordered, getting slowly to his feet and heading into the trees. “While you’re fumbling with your grip, I’ll get some long, straight branches.”

“Branches!” Inuyasha scowled, ignoring that last comment. “I thought you despised practicing with sticks.”

“If I could spar with Tenseiga I would, _hanyou_.” Sesshoumaru’s voice drifted towards him from the wood. “But in my current state, wooden poles it will have to be.”

“Keh.” Drawing Tetsusaiga from its sheath, Inuyasha tried to remember just how Sesshoumaru had gripped Tokijin’s hilt, even with only one hand. “I suppose you were born with a sword in your hand.”

“No, I learned to use my claws first. Father gave me my first wooden sword when I was a child, and when the arms master declared me sufficient, I received a true metal blade. Had events gone differently, you would have had the same course of training.” If Inuyasha hadn’t been able to sense his brother’s youki, or pinpoint his position from the sound of his voice, he would have lost Sesshoumaru in the tangled trees. He moved so silently, without disturbing any twigs or leaves.

“Yeah, but they didn’t go differently, did they? You threw me out.” It was surprising. When he was younger, Inuyasha had been bitterly resentful of Sesshoumaru – but not now. Something deep inside him had eased when he had first taken hold of Tetsusaiga and realized their father had sealed it against Sesshoumaru’s touch.

“And yet here I am, still taking responsibility for you.”

“ _You’re_ taking responsibility –” Sputtering, Inuyasha could only glare furiously in Sesshoumaru’s direction. “You really are a puffed-up prick, aren’t you? I don’t need you – especially half-sized like you are now – to point out every one of my mistakes and…and criticise my footwork! I’ve done perfectly well on my own!”

Sesshoumaru laughed, a low, derisive chuckle, the sound shockingly at odds with his pure, unbroken voice. “Then why are you so helpless without your sword?” Serene and unperturbed, he emerged from the woods with two long, straight wooden poles, tossing one casually to Inuyasha. “Here.”

Inuyasha caught it with his other hand, hefted it in one hand, feeling the weight and the balance. “It’s too light,” he muttered, swinging it experimentally. “But the balance is good.” 

“They will do.” Sesshoumaru moved to stand in front of him. “Now show me your grip on Tetsusaiga, first.”

Inuyasha dropped the wooden pole and took his sword in both hands.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed.

It was a very long lesson.

***

On the other side of the tangled woods, the strange, wooden _clack, clack, clack_ jerked Kagome, who’d been drowsing peacefully in the water, out of a very pleasant dream.

“What’s that sound?” she asked, puzzled. “It sounds like…”

“Oh, it’s just Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru,” Sango said. The taijiya was sitting cross-legged on a rock, dressed in her kimono, brushing out her long dark hair. Her eyes were laughing as she continued. “Sesshoumaru is trying to teach Inuyasha to fight properly.”

“Oh. You mean he wasn’t fighting properly before?”

Sango coughed discreetly. “Well, I know that Inuyasha has killed and defeated many strong youkai, Kagome, but…”

“But?”

“But his technique is rather…er, unorthodox. Not that it’s not effective, of course,” she backtracked hastily.

Shippou chose that moment to appear out of the trees. “Sesshoumaru said that he’d seen human peasants with more grace and co-ordination than Inuyasha, and that he’d have to unlearn almost everything he knows.” His eyes glowed with unholy glee. “He said that if Inuyasha had to face a human samurai with nothing but a blade, the samurai would chop probably him to pieces.”

Kagome winced. “And what did Inuyasha say?”

Miroku answered them this time, following Shippou out of the woods. “Inuyasha said that he wouldn’t take orders from a half-pint, and asked why, if Sesshoumaru was so good, he hadn’t been able to protect himself from the mystics.”

The _clack_ ing had intensified in the last few minutes, and Kagome began to hear Inuyasha’s distinctive voice raised in foul curses and angry shouting. _Clack, clack, clack-clack-clack-clackCLACKCLACKCLACK!_

“Oh no,” she wailed, jumping to her feet, “they’re gonna kill each other!”

Miroku’s face went slack, until Kagome realized she was still naked and ducked beneath the surface once more, her face beet-red.

Sango, sparing a moment to whack the monk over the head, raced into the trees towards the clacking and the cursing. Shippou and Miroku followed, the latter’s face mournful and the picture of wounded innocence.

Swearing, cursing all stubborn fools who couldn’t even refrain from violence for one day, Kagome jumped out of the water and began to pull her clothes on. What was the point of stopping for a day of rest if they insisted on fighting?

“Inuyasha! Sesshoumaru!” she shouted, hopping on one leg as she pulled on her shoes. 

Finally, both feet shod, she sprinted through the sparse undergrowth towards the clearing where the two brothers had been bathing and washing their clothes. When she burst out of the trees, she saw a sight that made her blood boil –

Inuyasha, holding a wooden pole with both hands, was looming over Sesshoumaru, who held his own pole above his head, blocking Inuyasha’s downward strike. 

“Stop!” Kagome howled, thoroughly enraged.

Both brothers turned to look at her, their faces set in remarkably similar expressions of irritation and disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing, Kagome?” Inuyasha demanded hotly, glaring at her as if she were at fault.

Suddenly, it did not look as though they’d been seriously attempting fratricide. “You were fighting!” she accused him lamely.

“What? Did you think we were trying to kill each other?” Embarrassed at being so caught out, Inuyasha sought refuge in sneering, righteous indignation. He lowered his pole and stomped up to confront her.

Kagome lost her temper. “How was I supposed to know what you were doing, you baka? You and Sesshoumaru don’t exactly get along very well, if you remember. What else was I supposed to think?”

Sesshoumaru lowered his own pole, forgotten as his hotheaded brother and the human miko shouted furiously at each other. The priest and the slayer, also not included, were laying bets.

“What do they wager on, kitsune?” he asked, sensing the young kit in the trees behind him.

There was a sharp sense of shock, fear, and speculation, before a small red bundle appeared at his side. “They’re betting on how long it’ll take before Kagome uses the word.”

“The word?”

The kitsune grinned toothily. “Yeah, you know, the restraining word. _Osuwari._ ”

Sure enough, a moment later, the human shrieked out “Osuwari!” and Inuyasha went crashing to the ground. The monk grinned, and the slayer scowled and handed him some coins.

Sesshoumaru just shook his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Later, Inuyasha crouched by the river once more, prodding tentatively at his black eye and tender nose. The sudden – and extremely forceful – pull towards the earth had sent him face first into the dirt, and he was lucky he’d only bruised his nose, not broken it. Cursing, he glared hotly at Sesshoumaru. That was the second time in less than a week Kagome had sent him crashing to the ground, and both incidents were directly attributable to his older brother.

Sesshoumaru ignored his displeasure. “How often does that happen?” he asked, his voice deliberately – overly – neutral, as he ran his claws through his long hair, combing it until it fell long and straight and shining, like a woman’s.

One of his earliest memories of Sesshoumaru was of a campfire, of hot roasted rabbit, and of the blissful, enveloping warmth of his fur. As Inuyasha drowsed, feeling safe for the first time in what seemed like forever, he’d watched Sesshoumaru comb his hair hypnotically, over and over until it shone like the very moon itself. He’d been very young, then, and Sesshoumaru had seemed a glorious figure, almost god-like in his power and beauty.

“All the time,” Shippou said, gleefully interrupting the memory. Inuyasha spared him a dark glance – the kit was deriving entirely too much enjoyment from this.

“Too damned often,” he corrected sullenly.

“Surely you knew better than to pour oil onto that fire, Inuyasha.” Sesshoumaru paused in his preening, his eyes sliding upwards to Inuyasha’s, gleaming with malice and amusement. Oh yes, that voice was too perfectly neutral. The bastard was laughing at him.

“Look, you ice-prick,” he snarled, “I’ll let you teach me how to fight, but the day I need your advice on women –”

“You certainly need some advice,” Sesshoumaru drawled, one ironic brow raised. “As far as I understand it, you have two –”

“Hey!” Shippou tried to interject.

“You shut your mouth, you…you mutt! You don’t know what –”

“You don’t think the tale has spread far and wide? Your embarrassing exploits have travelled the length and breadth of –”

“ _Hey!”_

“D’you think I give a damn if your precious good name is dragged in the dirt? You’re doing a perfect job of ruining it yourself! Turned into a pup by human mystics –”

“Shut your worthless mouth!”

“ _Hey! Hey! Hey, stop!”_

_“What?”_ Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru snapped, in perfect unison.

The young kitsune looked astounded as they rounded on him. “Er,” he said, swallowing nervously. “There’s someone in the bushes…”

Inuyasha jumped to his feet and drew Tetsusaiga. “Who’s there?” he shouted, brandishing the huge glowing fang threateningly. “What do you want?”

But the smell of sulphur and brimstone and the heavy breathing and snorting of Totosai’s strange bull told its own story.

**

“Oh dear, oh dear,” the old smith murmured, sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye at the extraordinary transformation that had overtaken the fierce Sesshoumaru. “This is quite unprecedented. Human mystics, to do this to a taiyoukai…”

A deep, dark growl trickled from between Sesshoumaru’s closed lips. The old man paled and hastily stepped back, before remembering that the great lord was only a child.

“Yes, quite extraordinary!”

“Perhaps, then, you would like to offer an explanation, old man?” Sesshoumaru’s voice was acid-etched, his eyes narrowed, colder than they had been during the shouting match with Inuyasha.

Totosai wondered how he was going to get out of this one. “I am not qualified to comment on the workings of human mysticism,” he said haughtily.

Inuyasha gripped his robes just below his chin and lifted him up until his feet were dangling off the ground. “Take a guess,” he growled. “I want _him,_ ” he cast a derisive glance at Sesshoumaru, “off my hands as quickly as possible.”

Faced with _both_ brothers, Totosai swallowed nervously.

**

She stood nervously, twisting her hands in her grubby, tattered kimono. She could feel their eyes on her, cold and analytical, and she didn’t like it –

_“I don‘t see anything special in her. She’s nothing but a dirty peasant.”_

They asked her questions. Why had Sesshoumaru-sama chosen to revive her? What purpose did she serve? They would not accept her explanations, chose not to believe that Sesshoumaru-sama had revived her for no real reason, and that she had no special powers or skills.

_“Do you mean to tell me that Sesshoumaru, the great, calculating, over-ambitious Lord of the West, had no ulterior motive in reviving her? I don’t believe it.”_

They turned on her then, and Rin cringed and drew back, recognizing the barely hidden contempt and dislike in their eyes. It reminded her of the way the villagers had looked when the samurai-sama had brought her to the village, crying and still covered in her parents’ blood, and told the headman that they had to look after her. These robed men pursed their mouths up exactly the same way, as if they’d bit into something that tasted horrible but were forced to eat it.

_“Capricious fool. Look at her! She’s uncivilized, uneducated – just listen to that accent!”_

_“Peace, my friend. We only need her for the ceremony. Peasant or princess, it doesn’t matter – her blood is just as red.”_

Rin drew in a sharp breath. Their voices were muffled behind masks, and when they talked with each other they spoke very differently to the villagers, using strange words and accents. But she could understand, a little, and what she did understand scared her.

Clutching her arms together, she shivered. Where was Sesshoumaru-sama?

**

Sesshoumaru watched Totosai fuss and fidget, smoothing his straggly beard as he hemmed and hawed and tried to evade their demands. He had a sinking feeling the old fool – the closest thing to an expert in youkai society – had no idea what the humans had done to him. Because he had been right: youkai were not given to dabbling in mysticism and occult forces, preferring claws and teeth, innate abilities and, at the very highest level, Totosai’s enhanced swords. Spiritual power was the domain of miko and monks, but even that was very different to what these _onmyouji_ had wielded.

Even so, the old man was going to give him an answer. 

“Well?” he snapped, once Totosai had finally settled on Inuyasha’s other side, as far away from his poison claws as possible.

“Despite what you think,” the old smith began, shifting restlessly, “Tenseiga is Tessaiga’s equal and opposite – it is just as powerful, and just as capable of changing the world.” He shot Sesshoumaru a sidelong glance. “You carried Tenseiga for more than sixty years, since your great father’s death, and not once – not _once_ – did you bestir yourself to use it – and then when you did, you revived a young girl, a human peasant.” 

“I was not aware my actions were of such interest,” Sesshoumaru growled.

Totosai snorted. “Oh, they’re of interest all right. What – did you think you could go your own way in the wilderness with nobody to care or comment? You _are_ the West. Your actions determine the fate of everybody who lies within your care.”

Sesshoumaru saw the kitsune nodding, his ears pricked as he listened intently. So the kit was from the West, was he? Inuyasha, however, was less convinced – he snorted, and Totosai shook his fist at him. “Don’t sneer,” the old man snapped. “They watch you, too.”

He turned back to Sesshoumaru, ignoring Inuyasha’s expression of furious indignance. “Of course they wondered what you saw in this girl. You’re notoriously ambitious, and you never do anything without some type of reason, no matter how obscure. Chasing after Inuyasha, yes, everyone could understand that. But a human girl?”

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes, his right hand clenching restlessly. He could feel the burning rise of his poison, infuriated by the thought of his Rin as a political pawn. She had no part in court intrigues, or any of his ambitions – she was a wild spirit, a brave, chattering companion whose rightful place was by his side, not because she was useful, but because he wanted her there. Because it pleased him that she be there.

“My motives are none of their concern,” he grated. “They have no right to judge me –”

“–And yet they do,” Totosai interrupted. “They do. And it’s not only youkai – these mystics probably saw her and thought immediately of the twice-born.”

“A myth.”

“Not to them, it’s not. To have gone to such trouble to snatch her, even to the point of confronting you–”

“Not that you put up such a fight,” Inuyasha chipped in, gloating, ignoring Sesshoumaru’s scowl. “They turned you into a child. In fact,” he went on, his smile fading slowly, “if they could do that, then why haven’t I heard of any other youkai treated the same way? Didn’t you say they’d been around for centuries?”

“What if it’s the first time?” the kitsune asked from Inuyasha’s shoulder. “What if…they took such a risk snatching Rin and confronting Sesshoumaru that they tried something new, something desperate?”

Sesshoumaru transferred his glare from Inuyasha to Shippou. The kit squeaked, ducking for shelter behind Inuyasha’s hair. “That is neither flattering nor comforting,” Sesshoumaru growled. “I go from being a naïve target of all-powerful mystics to the victim of an _experimental_ curse.” His fists clenched, his fingers glowing eerie, poisonous green. “When I get my hands on those bastards…”

“Ah well, now there I _can_ help you,” Totosai said, stroking his beard wisely and interrupting Sesshoumaru’s violent reverie.

Irritated, he flicked his fingers, sending little spatters of virulent poison flying. It pleased him to see the old man flinch. “Oh?”

It was a very dangerous question.

“The headquarters of the most powerful sects of _onmyouji_ are found in Kyoto, in the Imperial Capital,” Totosai said confidently. “They are traditionally advisors to Emperors and powerful courtiers –”

“They took her north,” Sesshoumaru said flatly. “I followed their scent trail for miles.”

“Yeah, but you lost it when those bandits attacked,” Inuyasha said. “They could have gone north for a while to throw you off – hey, what if they deliberately set those bandits on to you?”

“Myths, rumours, suppositions, what-ifs, could-haves,” frustrated, maddened, he pounded the ground with his fist. “Have you no _concrete_ information?”

“Quite frankly, no,” Totosai answered.


	8. Chapter 8

He smelled Kyoto long before it came into sight.

“Faugh!” Inuyasha scowled, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “What’s that smell?”

“Too many humans crammed into too small an area,” Sesshoumaru answered shortly. He could feel a headache developing, knew that by the end of the day his too-keen senses would be overwhelmed.

“Have you been here before, Sesshoumaru?” the kit asked eagerly, perched on Inuyasha’s shoulder. In the last few days, the half-grown kitsune had become less and less wary of Sesshoumaru, to the point where he was almost – but not quite – comfortable around him. Sesshoumaru knew the beginnings of fascinated hero worship very well – he’d seen it with Inuyasha – and wondered if he should nip it in the bud.

“Yes,” he said. “Centuries ago. Kyoto and the lands surrounding it are not claimed by youkai; the humans have stamped their presence here too thoroughly. There is no place for any but the pettiest sprites and imps among such overwhelming humanity.”

Not for the first time he wondered how humans survived and even prospered with their blunt, useless senses and their soft, vulnerable bodies. They were so weak, compared to most youkai, and yet enough of them in one place could wreak havoc. 

He saw the miko’s puzzled, thoughtful frown. “Then they won’t be used to youkai walking among them,” she said. “Maybe you should be careful – we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves, give the mystics too much warning.”

Inuyasha snorted. “Careful? He doesn’t know the meaning of it. You watch – he’ll march right up to the gates and demand entrance.”

Sesshoumaru looked down his nose at him. “This Sesshoumaru does not cater to human whims.” He flicked his claws through his long, drifting white hair, drew attention to his stripes, his flat, inhuman eyes, and Tenseiga strapped at an angle across his back. “And how do you suggest that we avoid drawing attention? We are an unusual group.”

The miko looked at him, at Inuyasha, at the taijiya’s leather outfit and her own indecent outfit. Only the monk looked truly normal. “Well, Shippou and Kirara can change into something more…cuddly looking, I suppose, and Sango can change into her kimono.” She frowned at Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha. “Would it hurt for you to _try_ to seem human? Perhaps you could both, um, wear more appropriate clothes, maybe dye your hair…?”

Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha both treated her to withering glares.

She wilted. “Ok, maybe not.”

But the matter would be decided for them in a very different way soon enough.

**

As they drew further and further towards the city, making no effort to hide their approach, Shippou could sense the strange absence of other youkai. Normally, in the wild, he could always feel them, even at a distance, but now he cast his senses out and felt nothing but cowering, faded, or mindless shadows.

It was then that he realized that there was something very, very strange happening. Sesshoumaru’s aura, the mature, almost overwhelming youki of a dominant taiyoukai, was awkwardly fitted to his new body. Before, he’d been able to control it, to rein it in and subdue it, but now it swelled and pulsed like a great heartbeat, overflowing and spilling into the world around him. His presence was powerful and ominous even out in the wild, where powerful youkai were common, but here, in this land where all the power had been leeched away by the humans, Sesshoumaru’s strength was like a blinding sun. It spread out from him, stirring the sluggish, weak demons from their lassitude, drawing them to him –

Kagome screamed as a twisted, shriveled crow-youkai spiraled out of the sky and landed at Sesshoumaru’s feet.

“What the fuck is going on?” Inuyasha demanded, jumpy as another twisted, reduced creature appeared and began crawling and scrabbling towards them. “What are these things?”

Sango and Miroku frowned, drawing closer together and preparing for trouble. All around them, now, Shippou could feel them approaching: the shriveled, crippled, starved remnants drawn by Sesshoumaru’s power.

“They are youkai,” Sesshoumaru answered shortly. “Or they were, once. Now they are twisted mockeries of their former existence.” His eyes were dark and his mouth twisted. “My father was the Lord of the Western dogs. I wonder what this makes me?”

“Who cares what it makes you?” Inuyasha shouted, shoving Kagome behind him and drawing Tetsusaiga. “Just get rid of them!”

A skittering, chittering spider flung itself at Shippou and brushed him with its papery, desiccated legs. Panicked, squeaking in fright, Shippou launched himself towards the nearest safe place – and latched onto Sesshoumaru’s leg, his claws digging in with every ounce of his strength. He felt the muscles tense, and then relax –

“Sesshoumaru!” Inuyasha howled, swearing obscenely as he obliterated ten or twelve youkai with one swing. “What the hell are you waiting for? Do something!”

Above him, Shippou thought he heard Sesshoumaru laugh. A clawed, poisonous hand gripped him by the scruff of his neck and pried him away, and then Shippou had just enough time to see Sesshoumaru smile.

**

“Grand Master,” an acolyte whispered, “there is –”

“Silence, fool!” he snarled. “I know. I can feel it.” Anyone with a shred of sensitivity could probably feel it, sense the overwhelming wave of Sesshoumaru’s aura. The intrusion of such a powerful being into the mystic clan’s carefully cultivated territory was shocking – he had not expected the taiyoukai so soon.

There was a swell of noise and babbling fear, and several of his colleagues hurried swiftly into his chambers. “Grand Master!” they shouted, reeking of fear-sweat, their faces white and terrified. “He has found us!”

“He’s come for the girl,” one of them moaned. “We should never have taken her.”

“He’ll kill us all! We have to leave now!”

“Enough!” he shouted, rising to his feet. “Enough of this cowardly nonsense. You,” he said, pointing to one of them at random, “prepare the horses. You four,” he said, pointing to a group skilled in entangling spells, “go to the gates of the city and delay him. All of you!” he turned his baleful gaze on them all, “why are you so afraid? We defeated him before, at his full strength. Now he is crippled, we will crush him!”

They stared at him, their eyes blank and uncomprehending. He could no longer stand it. “Go!”

Shocked, they scattered like chickens, glad only for direction and orders. But one man remained behind, half in shadow, lounging insolently against the wall.

“Takejiro,” he said curtly. “I thought I gave you your orders.”

“They should not have been necessary,” the other man said, his voice almost – but not quite – challenging. “You should have killed him.”

The grand master sneered. “Do you think you could have done a better job? But for the Tenseiga, that binding _would_ have killed him –”

“But instead it only weakened him. I watched you that night, Grand Master. You could have killed him when he knelt, helpless and weak – but you preferred to taunt him with his weakness while you took the girl.” Takejiro’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. “You hate him,” he said softly, “and it has warped your judgment.”

The Grand Master stepped forward to meet him, drawing his power around him until he was filled to overflowing with it. The air crackled with antagonism as their eyes and wills clashed.

“Are you challenging my authority, Takejiro?” he asked, very gently.

For a long, long while they stared at each other, until Takejiro finally looked away.

**

Rin knew there was something very important going on. She could hear them shouting at each other, their voices troubled and filled with fear and confusion. Deep down inside, she felt a flare of triumph – Sesshoumaru-sama was coming, she knew it. With all her heart and soul, she knew it.

She was huddled in the corner of her cell, clutching an old, miserable blanket around her, shivering in the cold air, but inside she was rejoicing, imagining the bloodthirsty, gruesome things Sesshoumaru-sama would inflict upon them.

“Girl.”

It was the scariest voice of all, the leader’s voice. But this time she wasn’t scared, because Sesshoumaru-sama was coming. She glared up at him, her eyes challenging, and refused to answer.

“Your master is coming, girl,” he said, his voice cruel and angry. “What do you think about that?”

She curled her lip at him.

“Yes, you’re brave now, aren’t you? Your faithful master coming to get you – you knew he would, didn’t you? You never have any doubts? Well, I’ll tell you this,” he leaned in further, hissing in his rage, “your Sesshoumaru- _sama_ is a crippled mockery of what he once was. He will never find you, not as he is now. What he will find, though, is death – and this time his father’s fang won’t save him.”

She shuddered at the malice and hatred in his voice, but kept her chin up. She would be brave. Sesshoumaru-sama was coming to rescue her.

He was really angry now. “ _Sesshoumaru,”_ he spat, his eyes full of hatred. “Your master is no merciful, benign god. He is a killer. A murderer who does not distinguish between human or youkai, men, women or children, innocent or guilty, victim or aggressor – did you think he loved you, little girl? Did you think he was gentle and kind? Shall I tell you how I know? I had a family once; a wife, children – and then your beloved master took them all away from me! Well, I will take you away from _him_.”

Rin cried out and put her hands over her ears, trying to block out his mad, ranting voice. Sesshoumaru-sama had never been anything but kind to her. Jaken-sama had hinted otherwise, sometimes, recounting Sesshoumaru-sama’s great victories with ghoulish relish, but Sesshoumaru-sama had always silenced him before he got to the details. She knew Sesshoumaru-sama could be dangerous but her memories of him were of safety and security, and the warmth of his fur on the coldest winter nights.

“Stop living in a fantasy, girl! Shall I wake you up? Shall I make you watch while he writhes and thrashes in his death throes, choking up blood as he watches –”

“Grand Master!” another voice shouted, interrupting the hateful words. “He’s inside the city! We must go!”

The raving man glared darkly at the man who had interrupted them. And then he turned back to Rin, but the horrible anger had eased a little, and Rin breathed a small sigh of relief, hiccupping a little as she tried to stop crying.

But then he threw the door open, grinning madly. “He’s even stronger than I thought. But no matter. Your Sesshoumaru-sama will never find you.”

**

Sesshoumaru limped straight towards the main gates of Kyoto, a small, white figure streaked with blood and guts, fresh blood flowing from at least four nasty wounds. Inuyasha followed after, cursing his single-minded, stubborn brother, but knowing that nothing he could do or say would change Sesshoumaru’s mind. Kyoto was in his sights, and nothing was going to stop him from regaining Rin, not hordes of zombie youkai, not blood loss, not stone walls, and most definitely not the threat of more mystics.

The short, slender figure of the Lord of the West marched right up to the gates and drew himself up to his full height, somehow managing to look down his nose at the guards. “This Sesshoumaru desires entrance,” he said haughtily.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

The guards looked at each other uneasily, their weapons clutched tightly against such a mixed group of strange, unusual arrivals. When a group of four robed mystics arrived, their faces grim and determined, the guards greeted them with relief.

“Do not let them pass!” the mystics ordered, their hands steady as they readied their incantations, even in the face of Sesshoumaru’s molten glare.

“Inuyasha, are you sure this is…?” Kagome began, unnerved by the way the taiyoukai simply stood there, watching the arcane preparations. But then she smelled the sickly-sweet, acrid stench of his poison, and saw his claws glowing as they lay relaxed by his sides.

“Keh! Let him make his own way.” Inuyasha crossed his arms and watched, scowling.

Sesshoumaru cast them one, irritated glance, and then lunged into action. Before the mystics could finish their spells, Sesshoumaru surged forward and sank his glowing claws into the leader’s stomach, ripping out his entrails with a moist squelch. The others stared at him, horrified, and the guards shouted and charged. Sesshoumaru grinned and twisted, a white, spinning dervish, sowing blood and guts wherever he moved.

When they were all dead, Sesshoumaru bent down to the human guards and picked out a sheathed wakizashi. Drawing it with a swift, metallic _shiick,_ he weighed it and swung it through a few preliminary forms. Then – only then – did he deign to notice the panic and alarm surrounding them, the shouts from human soldiers calling frantically for reinforcements, the screams and cries of terrified civilians.

“Well done,” Inuyasha said dryly. “Now you’ve done it. Are you going to kill the whole city?”

Sesshoumaru snorted. Delicately, he sheathed his new sword, pushed it through his fringed obi, stepped over the carnage, and entered the city.

The humans gave way for him as he passed, drawing as far away as possible, pressing against the sides of the streets so as not to draw his attention to them. Inuyasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango and Shippou trailed after him in his wake like retainers in a damned procession, all too aware of the terrified whispers and whimpered prayers that followed them. The citizens of Kyoto, to whom youkai were nothing but childhood tales, had sense enough to recognize danger when they saw it.

Some of them, however, had more courage than sense. A crazed, howling samurai charged at Sesshoumaru, both hands raising his huge sword over his shoulder. When he brought it down with a huge grunt of effort, Sesshoumaru sidestepped, drew his own sword with lightning speed, and chopped off both hands at the wrist. When the warrior-like grunt turned to high-pitched screams, Sesshoumaru stepped in and whispered in the samurai’s ear. Nodding frantically, the samurai raised his shaking stumps and pointed north, towards a large, menacing building, dark with atmosphere and power. 

Sesshoumaru finished him off with one blow – he made it mercifully clean – and then headed straight for the temple of the mystics.

But he was limping heavily, now.

**

He could feel her small hands, those small, chubby hands that clutched him so tightly to her when she slept. Once, he would have killed anyone who dared claim him so presumptuously, but now all he wanted was to feel her grab onto him so possessively, to feel her unconditional, unquestioning trust.

The blood was flowing faster now, the wounds torn open even further by that little massacre by the gate. He was growing lightheaded, and he knew he would have to rest, soon, or he would be vulnerable for the next few days. But he could keep going long enough to storm the mystics’ temple and regain his Rin.

Through these narrow, reeking streets, stinking of humans, waste and refuse, past all the sallow, staring faces with their empty eyes and their whispering mouths, victims and prey all, their terror tugging at his instincts. He trudged onwards, ever onwards, vaguely aware of his brother’s irritation behind him, and the motley tag-alongs who followed Inuyasha. 

Strange, to think that if he fell, Inuyasha might be there to pick him up, cursing all the while. He remembered the whelp as a young, helpless pup, his mother dead, alone in the world for the first, terrifying time. He’d taken Inuyasha in, for a while, protecting him, teaching him, until it was too much trouble to keep him...

“…sshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!” A strong, almost cruel grip on his shoulder, and a loud, irritating voice in his ear. “Sesshoumaru! What’s wrong with you?”

Slowly, he turned his head. Inuyasha. It had to be Inuyasha.

“There is nothing ‘wrong with me’,” he said icily. He forced himself to stand up straight and continue his march towards Rin. He could hear Inuyasha cursing behind him, but paid him no more heed.

As he drew closer to the mystics’ headquarters, he could feel their power pressing in on him, like the ominous, almost choking pressure before a storm. Forcing himself onwards, ever onwards, he climbed the human streets in a daze, concentrating on his breathing and the smooth movements of his muscles. Once, he reached out to his sword to reassure himself – not the useless, lifeless piece of metal at his hip, but Tenseiga, riding his back, filling him with wordless, warm reassurance. Slowly, despite his best efforts, he had come to value this unlooked-for last gift from his father.

And then suddenly he stood in front of the dark temple, the full force of the mystics’ power beating down upon him. Spells and bindings seemed to reach out to him, eager to entangle him, but he drew Tenseiga with both hands and held it, his wrists trembling at the weight, and the bindings parted when he slashed at them. He could hear exclamations and uproar behind him, but paid Inuyasha and the rest no heed – all his concentration was fixed on finding Rin, on forcing his way in and tearing the place apart until she was with him once more.

Tenseiga gained him entrance to the main chambers of the temple, where a group of six panicked fools fell to his claws and poison. He stepped over their corpses, his boots trailing in their blood, and for the first time in nearly a month caught her scent.

Following blindly, he ran down endless corridors and through any number of chambers, throwing the shoji aside and finding nothing, storming through the temple complex until he came to a dark, dank dungeon in the bowels of the temple. It reeked of her pain and terror, the smell maddening to his less-than-rational instincts.

He battered against the door, reduced to feral snarling and blind rage. Ungentle hands shoved him aside and a huge, glowing sword reduced the door to splinters. Cursing Inuyasha, he stepped eagerly into the little dungeon room, expecting to find a crying Rin clutching desperately at his leg –

But there was nothing but bare stone, a wooden bowl of water, an old, ratty blanket, and the smell of Rin’s terror and blood.

She was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between this chapter and the previous, there is a huge undefined time-and-plot skip. This is because I originally discontinued the story after chapter 8, and was only encouraged to continue when Manonlechat asked me to at least write the ending. So there is an awkward hand-wave transition between Sesshoumaru finding Rin gone and where we begin this chapter. 
> 
> Also this chapter makes a little reference to one of my other stories, "Eccentricities".

The bad man was angry.

Rin shivered in the cold, hugging herself tightly, as best she could with her hands and feet bound with rough rope. Her feet hurt, her blisters painful from walking day after day after day; the bad man had dragged her behind him ever since they had left the great city, running away from Sesshoumaru-sama –

She’d heard them whispering, angry and frightened, seen the way they looked over their shoulders and walked faster and faster. One by one they began to disappear, melting away in the night and never coming back.

And every day the bad man got angrier and angrier, and more and more frightened.

******

The mystic had finally stopped screaming.

Sesshoumaru knelt down to finish him off, and then paused a moment before regaining his feet. He flexed his claws, ignoring the dull, grinding agony in his bones and the pervasive weakness that threatened to overtake him. He’d grown used to it in the last few weeks: the long months trapped in his half-grown form were slowly taking their toll, his youki _–_ starved and confined in far too small a space – finally turning on itself and devouring him from the inside out.

But he was Sesshoumaru, taiyoukai of the West, and he was _not_ subject to his own flesh and pain. He would not be deterred from his goal, not while he could still breathe, not while he could still hear her voice calling him on.

_Sesshoumaru-sama,_ she whispered in his dreams. _Sesshoumaru-sama…_

“Are you in much pain, Sesshoumaru-sama?” the monk asked him, his dark eyes narrowed in concern, and something else, poorly hidden – fear. 

Slowly, Sesshoumaru forced himself upright, turning to face the human, noting the steady, measuring regard, the lines of pain around his eyes from the hole in his hand that was slowly killing him. “I will survive,” he said shortly. “Now that this one,” he kicked the limp, cooling corpse, “is finished, there is only one mystic left.”

Totosai had reappeared the day after the slaughter in the capital, pulling on his scraggly beard and assuring Sesshoumaru that he had a “fairly good” idea of what the mystics had done, and that he was “reasonably sure” he knew how to reverse it.

_“Simply put,”_ the old man had said, _“the humans joined their powers to craft a spell that would impose an aberration of nature upon you. If you destroy the spell, nature will – probably – resume its proper course. That means you’ll have to eliminate every single mystic who was party to the spell’s creation – but you won’t have any problems at all with that will you, Sesshoumaru?”_

There were times when Totosai, a lingering reminder of his father’s whimsical starts, drove Sesshoumaru to murderous distraction. But maddening and eccentric or not, the old man’s advice – liberally sprinkled with disapproval – was nearly always worth following. Especially when it ran parallel with his own desires and inclinations.

And so, since Kyoto, he and Inuyasha’s rag-tag companions had hunted the fleeing mystics down, slaughtering them one by one by one. There had been times when the miko had looked to protest – she’d tried to explain, once, why killing humans was worse than killing youkai – but Sesshoumaru had paid her no heed.

Now there was only the Grand Master.

*****

Sesshoumaru’s steps were faltering. Inuyasha knew that he was in pain. He could see it in the tightening of those blank golden eyes; hell, he could _smell_ it, the pain, the growing weakness. His bone-stubborn, increasingly obsessive elder brother simply refused to acknowledge it, pushing himself, pushing them all – if it were up to him, they wouldn’t stop until they ran themselves into the ground.

But as much as Inuyasha understood Sesshoumaru’s urgency, as much as he felt sorry for the little girl, humans had their limits, and this endless, backbreaking travel was taking its toll. Besides, there was one other reason he did not want to travel on this night, of all nights.

An old childhood instinct sent shivers down his spine, and turned his attention westwards, to the dying sun and the darkening sky, where the new moon would soon appear.

“Enough, Sesshoumaru,” he said finally. “We can’t go any further.”

Sesshoumaru, already three metres ahead, turned his head to stare at him, then, that particularly blank, feral gaze. Inuyasha met it and matched it, challenging him, unafraid.

“We need to find shelter before the sun sets. Once I turn human…” he trailed off, caught by unexpected memory.

By the sudden, ironic twist of Sesshoumaru’s mouth, his brother remembered it too.

_I am the most dangerous being in this forest, Inuyasha._

There had been a time, once, when Inuyasha – weak, vulnerable and human – had sheltered high up in the tree branches while Sesshoumaru kept watch below. Despite his instinctive fear of the new moon, he had slept soundly on those few nights, the sight of his white, ghostly guardian calming his fears.

But those days were long past.

**

Sesshoumaru was still awake in the hour before dawn, his head tilted, staring up at the bright, uncaring stars. His senses were at full alert, cataloguing his surroundings: the night was still, and they were alone save for small forest-dwellers and some petty mononoke to the south. The monk and the taiji-ya sat around the dying fire, talking in low voices, the fire-cat watched the forest, her eyes bright, glowing slits in the night. The fox kit and the miko slept, uneasy, and Inuyasha – dark haired and human – crouched, vulnerable, in the trees above.

“You still awake?” the hanyou asked quietly, knowing he would be able to hear even the smallest whisper.

That sudden flash of shared memory this afternoon was an unwelcome reminder of everything he had once been, and Inuyasha had to know it.

“Yes,” he answered shortly. “Awake, and aware.”

“What’s out there?” Inuyasha asked. “I can’t hear or smell anything, and my eyes are useless – all I see are shadows.”

Just for a moment, Sesshoumaru wondered what it would be like to be human, and all but blind to the world. “Petty predators,” he said. “They are no threat to us.”

“Huh.” Inuyasha shifted uneasily, clutching the rusting, useless Tessaiga. “You sure?”

He did not dignify that with an answer. Instead, he turned his mind to the future, to what he would do after the end of this mad race, when he finally regained his true stature. Three months he had been trapped and restrained in this weak, juvenile form; he would need to restamp his authority on the West, crush any and all rivals to his position –

He refused to consider that there could be any other outcome – he _would_ break this cursed enchantment, and he _would_ find his Rin alive, unharmed, and trusting. And then life would be as it always was, back to his solitary wandering, the girl’s footsteps dancing in his wake. 

******

The night passed without any major incident. When the sun rose above the horizon, Inuyasha’s transformation reversed, his characteristic arrogant cockiness returning with his hanyou form.

Sesshoumaru refused to respond to his brother’s bravado-driven baiting. The Grand Master was out there, somewhere; Sesshoumaru hoped the coward was looking over his shoulder, sensing the slow, inexorable approach of his doom.

He was right to fear. Sesshoumaru had spent _months_ planning his death.

******

They set out after a cheerless breakfast, Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha in the lead, Kagome close behind Inuyasha, Sango, Miroku, Shippou and Kirara following after. Sesshoumaru’s grim, moody preoccupation had infected them all – Kagome could still hear the mystic they’d caught yesterday screaming and howling as Sesshoumaru’s acid-green poison ate away his flesh. The taiyoukai had become increasingly vicious as the days, weeks and months passed without sight of Rin, and though no one was willing to say it, they all feared what would happen if there was no happy ending to this quest.

They were headed due north, Sesshoumaru drawn by some unknown, obsessive instinct. The pace he set was brutal; it was as if he knew the chase was finally coming to an end, and his whole being was eager to race forward into confrontation at last.

Inuyasha, cursing, tried to get him to slow down, to wait for the slower members of their party so that they were not strung out and left vulnerable. Sesshoumaru dealt him one, fulminating look, and only increased his pace – let the others keep up if they were able, his contemptuous eyes said; he would not rest until caught up with the cursed mystic. 

Hours passed, and Sesshoumaru had outstripped the rest of the party. Inuyasha had stayed behind to shepherd Kagome, Sango and Miroku; the white figure of his brother was ahead in the distance, still visible, if by some evil chance a predatory youkai thought to try his luck. As it was, Sesshoumaru’s vicious mood was spilling over into his surroundings, and what woodland creatures and mononoke there were in the area were lying low; it would be a damn stupid predator who tried to attack him.

Through endless dark, tangled trees they went, the ground gradually sloping upward as they approached the coast. Soon enough Inuyasha could hear the dull, endless roar of the sea, taste the salt in the air – and then the trees gave way to open sky as they came out on a high, grassy rise, the wind in their faces, and the rank scent of terror, hatred, and dark, twisted magic telling them that they had finally caught up with the last of the fugitive mystics.


	10. Chapter 10

The Grand Master stood with his back to the cliff, a knife to Rin’s throat, his smile a death’s-head rictus.

“Sesshoumaru-sama!” the girl cried, her voice high and desperately relieved, her familiar scent almost overwhelmed by the mystic’s fear-sweat and the wave of foul, black power that leaked from his very pores.

“Don’t come any closer, Sesshoumaru!” the Grand Master taunted. “Not unless you want this entire quest to be in vain.” Cackling madly, he gripped Rin tighter around the waist, deliberately nicked her throat with the razor-sharp knife.

The metallic copper scent of her blood stained the air.

Sesshoumaru stood at bay before him, snarling, his fists clenched in absolute, blind rage. Her fear and pain maddened him; the sight of her struggling to pull away from the knife provoked his vicious, animal instincts.

“Sesshoumaru-sama!” she screamed again, crying, calling, calling to him –

Inuyasha tackled him to the ground before he blindly charged forward, every nerve and sinew of his body straining to answer her call. Snarling, he turned on his younger brother, struggling desperately to free himself, but Inuyasha was too heavy, too strong. Just as before, he found himself pinned underneath the hanyou, gasping for breath, his hands scrabbling desperately at the black earth. 

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” Inuyasha snarled. “Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

The bastard mystic howled with derisive laughter. “The great Sesshoumaru, brought to his senses by his hanyou brother! That’s right! If you kill me, fool, you’ll spend the rest of your life as you are, trapped in that form. You will never regain your lost power!”

Inuyasha swore angrily. Sesshoumaru, looking into the swirling black mist, knew a moment of doubt, a memory of that terrible night when he had stood, paralysed, and felt the bonds of the mystics’ spell entrapping him, restraining him –

What did Totosai know, the old, senile fool?

But then the mystic made his last, terrible mistake. Leering, he dragged the tip of the knife down Rin’s cheek, his eyes firmly fixed on Sesshoumaru’s. “Hmmm,” he crooned, licking at the blood, “when your master is dead, little girl, I think I’ll keep you.”

_“Sesshoumaru-sama!!!”_ she shrieked, kicking and squirming desperately, lost in animal terror and pain.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes flashed red. Breathing very deeply, every muscle slowly tensing, clenching, he fixed his entire focus on Rin, her blood-stained kimono, her eyes great wells of terror and absolute faith. 

“Inuyasha,” he growled, guttural, deep in his throat. “Let me go.”

“No way!” Inuyasha shook his head. “You heard what he said; you don’t know what’ll –”

“It is _my_ chance to take.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, slowly, Inuyasha released his grip. Sesshoumaru could feel him step back, standing behind him, his hand playing nervously over Tessaiga. But this was not his fight. Slowly, Sesshoumaru stood, a glowing white figure, fierce and proud, his eyes blood-red and absolutely feral.

The Grand Master’s eyes went wide with what might have been fear. “Very well, then – you have chosen death,” he pronounced. And he began to chant, sonorously, the words of power rolling off his tongue, striking the air with almost tangible force.

Sesshoumaru could feel them gather around him, coiling and ensnaring, and fought hard against a resurgence of fear. But he gathered his strength, fought against the growing, unnatural sense of weakness and lassitude, and focused all his determination on the Grand Master, cocooned in swirling darkness.

And then, before his strength gave out, he attacked –

Charged forward, his whole body coiled, his breath burning in his lungs, his heart pounding in his throat, every muscle screaming with effort.

The Grand Master threw his hands out and howled, and the darkness crashed over him like a wave, fear and despair and soul-numbing cold tearing at his strength, his courage. Sesshoumaru would have faltered, then, had he not heard _her_ voice spurring him on, calling him –

At the last, there was only one thought in his mind, in his heart.

_Rin!_

He reached the heart of the darkness, and tore the Grand Master’s throat out with his bare claws.

The foul chanting cut off abruptly, and the enveloping darkness suddenly howled and shrieked, roiling and convulsing madly. Out of nowhere a strong sea wind began to blow, dispersing the stifling mists. But then, as the air cleared, Sesshoumaru could see the mystic was laughing madly, choking on his own blood; as he looked on in horror, the Grand Master staggered, and then, in his last, vindictive act, hurled himself _backwards,_ over the cliff.

Sesshoumaru dived, his left hand reaching out to grab Rin’s screaming, flailing body before the mystic’s limp weight carried her over the edge. He caught her, his claws tangling in her kimono, but he, too, began to slide over the edge –

Scrabbling desperately, he dug his right hand into the cliff, anchoring himself, holding Rin, fragile and sobbing, tightly to his chest.

_“Hush,”_ he murmured. _“It is over, now. Stop crying, Rin.”_

And then the transformation began. It was agonising, excruciating pain, his bones cracking and snapping, his muscles stretching, his nerves and sinews lengthening as his whole body convulsed and reformed, the mystics’ enchantments undone all at once to return him to his full, glorious size and strength. 

His left arm vanished. Shocked, unthinking, he let go his hold on the cliff to grab hold of Rin, and then he was falling, falling, the clouds and the great dark expanse of the sea below him –

Inuyasha, crouching on the edge of the cliff, reached down and grabbed him by his collar. Swearing, struggling with his footing, Inuyasha fought to hold on to the solid, heavy weight of a human child and a full-grown _inuyoukai_ , not the slender, fine-boned boy Sesshoumaru had been two minutes and three hundred years ago.

The ground began to crumble underneath him, and Inuyasha threw his head back, straining, the cords on his neck standing out in strong relief. “Come on, you bastard,” he grunted, panting heavily. “Help me!”

Twisting, beyond reason, Rin’s arms clamped tightly around his neck, her panic beating against him, Sesshoumaru fought against Inuyasha’s grip. But the hanyou would not let go. “Damned,” he ground out, “if I’ve followed you all across Japan to let you fall now! _Listen_ to me, Sesshoumaru!”

Slowly, a spark of sanity woke in Sesshoumaru. He looked up to see Inuyasha, his golden eyes angry, worried, and absolutely determined not to let Sesshoumaru and his precious burden go. Breathing deeply, he gathered enough composure to stop fighting, to go limp in Inuyasha’s grip, to trust that his younger brother was strong enough to carry his weight.

There was a moment of perfect understanding.

And then with a great, straining heave, Inuyasha hauled them back over the cliff and onto solid ground.


	11. Epilogue

Later, much later, his white robes bloodied and his claws dripping acid, Sesshoumaru executed the last of his rebellious vassals and regained his iron grip on the West. There was no formal ritual or ceremony of acknowledgment, but only brutal conquest in the old, old style – he had some vague notion that his father would not have approved.

In truth, it was not all that he had dreamed it would be.

Dissatisfied, he flicked the last of his poison from his claws, kicked the piled corpses of his enemies out of the way, and turned back towards Inuyasha’s human village.

****

The night wind shifted.

High up in the branches of Goshinboku, Inuyasha’s nose twitched, the familiar scents of the drowsing village momentarily overlain by the instinctive, unmistakable smell of _kin._ He’d known that scent in the cradle, had associated it with safety, once, and then with fear and hatred. Now he greeted the prospect of his brother’s arrival with a combination of irritation, resentment, and a very healthy dose of respect.

After months of vicious fighting, Sesshoumaru had finally finished slaughtering his enemies.

The girl would be happy to see him, at least. She’d been quiet and withdrawn since he’d left her here in the village, under Inuyasha’s protection, her usual chatter and energy subdued. But she had never doubted, not even for an instant, that her beloved Sesshoumaru-sama would return.

Inuyasha wouldn’t have believed it, if he hadn’t seen the way Sesshoumaru held her, his nose buried in her hair, after the darkness had dispersed and the long nightmare had finally ended. She had clutched him just as tightly, her small arms wound tightly around his neck, her breath gasping as she fought not to cry.

“On watch, little brother?” There was a rustle of leaves, a slight dip in the branch on which Inuyasha was sprawled, and then Sesshoumaru was right there, in front of him, a white beacon perfectly at ease perched so high above the ground.

“Always,” Inuyasha retorted. He waited for the old, familiar resentment at that taunting _little brother,_ but felt nothing – he had somehow become accustomed, these past few months, to the thought of Sesshoumaru as his elder brother.

Even if he was a first class bastard.

“There were some fugitives who thought they could find revenge on you here.” He pretended not to notice Sesshoumaru’s sudden stillness. “I quickly disabused them. But after that, nothing more – you’ve been very thorough in your purge.” 

“I had reason to be thorough,” Sesshoumaru said grimly. His eyes were fixed on the village, focused and intent.

“Huh.” Inuyasha wondered which way he should interpret that. Sesshoumaru’s very intensity gave him the answer. “You’ve come back for her, then?”

Narrowed, dangerous eyes flicked his way. But before Sesshoumaru could challenge him, the wind shifted once again, bringing the girl’s scent with it. She was heading towards the forest, towards her Sesshoumaru-sama, as fast as her small legs could carry her.

A brief dip, the slightest rustle, and Inuyasha was alone once more on his perch.

****

She woke to a sense of giddy excitement, her heart lifting in anticipation. She _knew,_ with absolute certainty, that the day she had longed for had finally arrived – Sesshoumaru-sama had returned for her, and it was time to leave.

Her whole body trembling, she snuck out of the house, her bare feet padding soundlessly on the wooden boards and tatami mats, slipping silently through the shadows of the village houses. The moon was high and bright in the sky, filling the night with a ghostly silver light – child of wild paths and hidden meadows, she made her way confidently into the forest, absolutely certain of Sesshoumaru-sama’s protective presence enfolding and surrounding her. 

She found him in the forest, standing on the banks of a small, ice-cold stream. She knew when he acknowledged her presence – his head tilted, his long, silver-white hair falling forward over his white and crimson over-robe. He turned, just a little, to indicate that she was welcome to approach.

“Rin knew you would come, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she said softly, padding up beside him with complete confidence. “The bad men said that you would not bother – but Rin knew.”

His calm, indifferent golden eyes turned to hers, and his clawed, delicate hand came to rest gently in her hair. Sesshoumaru-sama’s claws were razor-sharp and poisonous, but she was not afraid. She remembered how he had held her tightly, that terrible day, on the edge of the cliff; his heart beating more swiftly than she had ever felt it before.

_“Hush, Rin, stop crying. It’s all over now.”_

And it was.

He did not answer her in words; he rarely did. Instead, he knelt down in front of her, careless of his robes pooling around him, and picked her up with his remaining arm. She leaned into him, completely trusting, and allowed him to take her away from the human world forever.

**

FIN


End file.
